Love Me Dead
by Volt
Summary: KOTOR II: Atton Rand reflects on his twisted relationship with the Exile, and where exactly everything went wrong. DS Romance


Title: Love Me Dead  
Pairings: DSAtton/DSF!Exile

Rating: R for sexual commentary and language

Song: Love Me Dead –Ludo

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_Love me cancerously  
Like a salt-sore soaked in the sea.  
'High-maintenance' means  
You're a gluttonous queen  
Narcissistic and mean._

She really didn't have any hesitation about playing them at all. Atton knew. Atton always knew. Atton knew her better than she knew herself most of the time. He should, by now. He had only been watching her with such single minded tenacity that it had turned into an obsession. She was a drug, and he couldn't deny it.

And honestly, Atton couldn't bring himself to care. He would do anything for her, a trait that she obviously knew existed. He didn't mind, though. He made himself useful for more reasons than wanting to stay on her good side.

She, was his. No matter how many erstwhile suitors showed up at her doorstep.

Even if she was heartless and manipulative at best.

_Kill me romantically  
Fill my soul with vomit  
Then ask me for a piece of gum._

Atton looked at himself in the mirror in the fresher, and knew that he looked... well, he looked evil. Not that he really cared. He had hung out with some pretty nasty looking Dark Lords on occasion. Like Kreia. Brrr. Sickly yellow eyes the color of bile did not seem to help his image. It made him look like a mad dog. He really didn't know how she did it, managed to look so Force damned sexy with her flesh cracking on her body and her face a pale mockery of the intense, shimmering beauty she must have once had.

She was still beautiful, of course, but in a darker way. She had let him taste some of her body's sweetest fruits, and now Atton Rand was hooked. Just like she had planned, no doubt. It was not like he was going to argue.

_Bitter and dumb  
You're my sugarplum.  
You're awful, I love you! _

Perhaps she was annoyed by his constant adoration, but so far Atton had seen no sign of it. He had barely left her side five minutes through this whole journey, and wasn't really planning to. If he pleased her, she was the sweetest creature in the galaxy, but in truth she 

was like a snake with honey. She sounded like one, too. A thick, promising, poisoning sweetness in her tone that promised delightful pleasures and at the same time, promised a world of pain that no living being could possibly perform.

He supposed that, in the beginning, she horrified him a little bit. Cold, calculating, cruel. Harsh, violent, and above all overwhelmingly intelligent. But as time grew, Atton figured that she was the savior of the universe (kind of), so who was he to argue?

Better to follow her than the old crone, anyway.

_She moves through moonbeams slowly  
She knows just how to hold me  
And when her edges soften  
Her body is my coffin_

There were a few times he thought that he should of escaped her, he wasn't going to lie. The kind of cruelty he had seen her perform was out of the league of even most Sith he had met. But as far as he could tell, she wasn't a Sith, or a Jedi.

She was power, and he always had liked the taste of power.

Every time he had thought of leaving her, her honeyed promises drew him back to her. Her promises, those of power and those of her body, were just far too tempting to ignore. She had always been ripe and lush, almost to the point of being obscene. She could always give the feeling that she was making love to you when she spoke. And either way, she knew how to soften up just enough for Atton to become protective, and proprietary of her time yet again.

And well, after the light sided blond fool had shown up, Atton was less inclined to flee than ever. Better that death have her before Atton would give her up to that.

_I know she drains me slowly  
She wears me down to bones in bed  
Must be the sign on my head  
That says, oh...  
Love me dead! Love me dead!_

And now his own flesh was starting to turn grey and lifeless as the cracked hide of their enemy, making Atton look like a pale shadow of the once handsome face he once owned. And then she was there, slithering her way under his arm to lean up and whisper into his ear. Fingers wandered over dark shadows on his flesh, yellow eyes shimmering in the dim light.

She was right. What was a little loss in looks compared to the power he now had at his disposal? Either way, he knew that she wasn't going to let him go. Ever.

Kreia didn't approve, of course, but Kreia didn't approve of much when it came to him. Vicious old bitch.

_You're a faith-healer on T.V.  
You're an office park without any trees  
Corporate and cold  
_

_Gushing for gold  
Leave me alone._

Atton could not say that sometimes he didn't hate her for what she did. She killed women, children, and sometimes made them suffer just to feed her sick amusement. But he knew that everything, everything she had ever done was for a purpose, for power. Even him. And in a way, he resented her for it. She fed off of his power, off of his emotions both good and ill. Guilt, love, lust, she desired them all. And she knew exactly how to get them from him.

But in essence, that power was his. Without him, she'd be nothing. Nothing but a bitter woman with no power and no future.

So what, exactly, made Mical so important?

_You suck so passionately  
You're a parasitic psycho, filthy creature  
Finger-bangin' my heart  
You call me up drunk  
Does the fun ever start?  
You're hideous and sexy! _

Atton didn't think the rest of the crew realized how truly crazy that she was. She sucked power from them like she was a parasite, and they just the hosts. She didn't really need them for anything else, of course, and they all could be easily replaced. People thought that their crew was close. They weren't. It was a symbiotic relationship that both needed to survive, yet secretly, nearly every being on this ship hated each other. If given half the chance, the Ebon Hawk would be a bloodbath before the day was out. How she avoided this, he wasn't certain, but he also knew that they would all kill each other on demand.

Then again, he'd kill Mical just for fun, so that didn't really count. He might have to wait in line.

Mical was a paragon of virtue and loyalty, the lone voice of reason on the ship of lunacy. The Zabrak kept mostly to himself, and that was for the best. He could not claim to complete innocence any more than the rest of them could. After all, he had killed more with his technology than the rest of them combined.

The blond man has stated more than once that the Dark Side was rotting the very flesh from her bones, but she just laughed in his face. Even in all her cancerous glory, she was still absolutely gorgeous.

_Love me cancerously_

Atton imagined when she ran her slender finger down her torso that she was spreading sores as she touched, peeling the flesh from his body away with every touch of her fingertips. And he imagined it was the most erotic feeling he had ever experienced.

And as she went lower, with that serpent's grin, Atton Rand realized in a moment of clarity that she was going to, in the end, consume him.

_How's your new boy?  
Does he know about me?  
_

_You've got the mark of the beast.  
You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful! _

Mical was always trying to save her. It was sad, really, but Atton still didn't appreciate it. And she played the Jedi hopeful like a finely tuned instrument. Despite his claims of no attraction to her, Atton could feel his eyes on her even as he could feel his own on her. An activity that she did nothing to curtail.

Atton knew what she was doing. She was drawing him every forward, consuming who and what he was bit by bit like a delicate morsel. His loyalty, blind trust, and adoration were all delicacies, after all, and ones that she enjoyed immensely. Still, it made Atton jealous. She had consumed him like that as well, until he had given into her honeyed promises, and now she was doing the same to one most unworthy.

He would have to be gotten rid of, of course, once she had her fill of him. Atton did not brook rivals. Not for long, at least.

_She moves through moonbeams slowly  
She knows just how to hold me  
And when her edges soften  
Her body is my coffin  
I know she drains me slowly  
She wears me down to bones in bed  
Wha' 'bout that sign on my head  
That says, oh...  
Love me dead! Love me dead!_

Atton was going to die by her hand one day, and he knew it. But not until she grew bored of him, which she claimed would not happen even if they lived a thousand years. When she had found him standing over Mical's corpse on Malachor V, instead of being angry at his insubordination, she pressed him against the floor and fcked him so throughly that Atton was sure that he would never be able to walk again. And he wouldn't mind. She could take him whenever she wished.

Atton Rand had long gotten used to the fact that her body was his coffin.


End file.
